A (shrinking). No.

CAESAR (with quiet authority). Go to the balcony; and you shall see
us take the Pharos. You must learn to look on battles. Go. (She goes,
downcast, and looks out from the balcony.) That is well. Now, Rufio.
March.

CLEOPATRA (suddenly clapping her hands). Oh, you will not be able to go!

CAESAR. Why? What now?

CLEOPATRA. They are drying up the harbor with buckets--a multitude of
soldiers--over there (pointing out across the sea to her left)--they are
dipping up the water.

RUFIO (hastening to look). It is true. The Egyptian army! Crawling over
the edge of the west harbor like locusts. (With sudden anger he strides
down to Caesar.) This is your accursed clemency, Caesar. Theodotus has
brought them.

CAESAR (delighted at his own cleverness). I meant him to, Rufio. They
have come to put out the fire. The library will keep them busy whilst we
seize the lighthouse. Eh? (He rushes out buoyantly through the loggia,
followed by Britannus.)

RUFIO (disgustedly). More foxing! Agh! (He rushes off. A shout from the
soldiers announces the appearance of Caesar below).

CENTURION (below). All aboard. Give way there. (Another shout.)

CLEOPATRA (waving her scarf through the loggia arch). Goodbye, goodbye,
dear Caesar. Come back safe. Goodbye!

ACT III

The edge of the quay in front of the palace, looking out west over the
east harbor of Alexandria to Pharos island, just off the end of which,
and connected with it by a narrow mole, is the famous lighthouse, a
gigantic square tower of white marble diminishing in size storey by
storey to the top, on which stands a cresset beacon. The island is
joined to the main land by the Heptastadium, a great mole or causeway
five miles long bounding the harbor on the south.

In the middle of the quay a Roman sentinel stands on guard, pilum in
hand, looking out to the lighthouse with strained attention, his left
hand shading his eyes. The pilum is a stout wooden shaft 41 feet long,
with an iron spit about three feet long fixed in it. The sentinel is so
absorbed that he does not notice the approach from the north end of the
quay of four Egyptian market porters carrying rolls of carpet, preceded
by Ftatateeta and Apollodorus the Sicilian. Apollodorus is a dashing
young man of about 24, handsome and debonair, dressed with deliberate
astheticism in the most delicate purples and dove greys, with ornaments
of bronze, oxydized silver, and stones of jade and agate. His